


A Time To Dance

by MissCrazyWriter321



Series: For Everything A Season [2]
Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Brooms, But mostly fluff, Christmas Isn't Canon, Dancing, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Painful Pun Usage, Platonic Relationships, Sorry Mason, Spite Fluff, Team as Family, backstories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-20 01:20:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17612741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCrazyWriter321/pseuds/MissCrazyWriter321
Summary: A sequel to "A Time to Mourn." In daylight hours, some of the pain fades away, and Flynn finds solace in his unconventional family.





	A Time To Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, you read the tags right: Spite Fluff. I'll be over the finale one day, but today is not that day.
> 
> Ahem. 
> 
> If you happen to have stumbled onto this fic without reading the first one in this series, I'd recommend reading that first, but basically all you need to know is: Flynn found and watched a recording of his family's death, and Lucy was there to comfort him. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ideas.

Awareness creeps up on him, chasing away the dreamlike haze. 

Sweat clings to his skin, and the crick in his neck is almost unbearable. Is something wrong with his pillows? The rest of his body aches, too, and his throat and eyes are miserably dry. His pounding head is just the icing on the cake. 

He opens his eyes slowly, wincing at the light, and looks around. Just a few feet from him sits the Lifeboat, all charged and ready to jump. But since when is the Lifeboat in his room? 

It hits him all at once: The videos. Him watching his family die. Trying not to fall apart. Lucy taking care of him, even as everything spiraled out of control. Him falling asleep on her lap, listening to her sing. (No wonder his neck aches. His pillow is Lucy's leg. Suddenly, he doesn't care how much it hurts; he's half convinced he'll never move.)

“Hey.” Her voice is soft. Cautious. Careful not to startle him. 

He shifts onto his back so he can see her, so that she can see him. “Hey.” The word barely slips out, hoarse and cracked. He needs water, but that involves getting up, leaving the shelter she’s giving him.

“How-” She hesitates, maybe debating whether or not she should ask, before continuing, “How are you holding up?” Her fingers drift down to his hair, slowly combing through it. He's not entirely sure she's aware of it, but he isn't about to complain. It soothes him, more than such a simple touch should. 

He considers the question. “Better, I think.” It's true; the pain is mostly physical now. The heartbreak and devastation of the night before seems more than a distant nightmare than something real and tangible. If he didn't know better, he'd think it hadn't happened at all. Slowly, cautiously, he sits up, testing to see if he can. A twinge runs through him, but it's manageable. “Thank you.” 

Because she didn't have to do that. Even now, he can hardly wrap his head around the fact that she chose to. Maybe it shouldn't be surprising-his Lucy is nothing if not selfless-but for her to put that time and effort into caring for him, of all people, seems a little unbelievable. 

She smiles gently, patting his arm. “Anytime.” 

He wonders if she means to echo his words to her, so many months ago. Wonders if she means them they way he did. But does it matter? She’s here, and maybe that’s enough. They stay like that for a moment, her hand resting just past his wrist, caught up in a bubble all their own. He struggles for the words to tell her exactly what this all means to him, but falls dreadfully short, so he settles for reaching out, squeezing her hand. It's meant to be a brief touch, but she doesn't let go, and he certainly doesn't pull away. 

In the next instant, footsteps echo through the room, thoroughly popping the bubble.  _ Wyatt. _ He freezes when he sees them, and it's clear he's on the verge of saying something, but at the last second, his gaze darts to Flynn, and he hesitates. Looks away. Disappears into the kitchen with a grimace. 

“I should go.” Grasping the last bit of his courage, Flynn leans forward, pressing his lips to Lucy's cheek. “Get washed up, get changed… All of that.” 

She nods, a lovely pink tinging her cheeks. (And he did that, he can't help but think. He made her smile like that, made her blush like that. The knowledge swells up inside him, banishing the misery of the night before to the very back of his mind.) 

-

By the time he joins the others for breakfast, the others are nearly done. Lucy is stammering, a dark scarlet, clearly the center of attention. He strains to follow the threads of conversation. 

“Come on, Lucy! Please?” Rufus has full puppy face engaged, and Flynn can barely stifle a chuckle. Lucy is trying and failing to look stern, shaking her head, but the sparkle in her eyes tells him she won't hold out on whatever this is for long. 

Mason clears his throat, like he's preparing for some grand address. “It's perfectly alright, Lucy. You needn't be embarrassed. We all have… Less pleasant parts of our past.” 

It's nice, seeing the team playful and relaxed. Loathe as he is to admit it, he's started to care about all of them, not just Lucy. (Yes, maybe even Wyatt. Don't expect him to admit it, even if his life depends on it.) They don't have many chances like this, to relax and just be. 

Denise tries to cut in, her Mom Voice in full force. “Alright now. If Lucy doesn't want to tell us-”

“Tell us what?” Flynn asks, finally giving in to his curiosity. 

Jiya grins at him conspiratorially, waving him closer. After a moment, he complies, dramatically leaning closer so he can hear. She positively beams. “Lucy was in a band in college.” The woman in question rolls her eyes, still shaking her head. 

To his surprise, Wyatt speaks up. “We want to know the name so we can look it up on YouTube, but…” He shoots Lucy a pointed look. “She won't tell us.” 

He can't help it. He laughs, the tension of the past two days draining away in an instant. “Why not just look up ‘Lucy Preston band’?” Her voice flits through his mind, singing him to sleep, and suddenly, he very much wants to hear her sing again, now that he's conscious enough to appreciate it. 

Jiya lights up, pulling out her phone and typing frantically. Lucy glares at him, though her lips twitch too much for him to take it seriously. “Traitor,” she mouths, and he holds up his hands in a show of innocence. 

“Let's see.” Jiya hums. “That's… A commercial for Lap-band… A recording of one of your lectures…” Lucy's scowl at that is a little more sincere, and he makes a mental note to ask her about it later. “Oh, here it is! Rushmore? Seriously, Lucy?” 

Lucy's face flushes even more. “What? We were a rock group.” 

Dead silence. Then, Rufus sighs. “History nerds.” 

Chuckling, Flynn makes his way around to see the screen. It is… Exactly what he would expect from a band in 2003. Lucy stands, front and center, with black eyeliner, black lipstick, a bomber jacket, and ripped jeans. With a grin, Jiya presses ‘play.’ 

An unfamiliar song fills the air, the Lucy on-screen pouring her heart into some overly dramatic breakup song that tugs at every heartstring just by her singing it. Off-screen, the Lucy in front of him shifts uncomfortably, gaze darting down to her plate. Pointedly avoiding Wyatt. 

Well, he can't have her feeling uncomfortable. Maybe this is his chance to thank her, for before. (It cannot even come close to measuring up, but it is something, at least.)

“Come on, then.” He holds out a hand to her. Lucy blinks.

“What?”

“Dance with me.” 

She laughs, and he grins in reply, wiggling his fingers playfully. “This isn't a dancing song,” she protests, but she's already standing up. He catches her hands, pulling her to him. 

“Anything is a dancing song if you dance to it,” he points out, twirling her on the spot. Her eyes sparkle in the low light of the bunker, and he's tempted to draw her close, to sway in place with her, breathing her in, never mind the rest of them. But the point is to make her more comfortable, so he puts that idea aside. For now, at least. Instead, he leads her in an absurd series of movements that almost resemble dancing, swinging their hands from side to side. He's never been much of a dancer, and it's clear she isn't one either, so they don't try to make it look good. 

Still, it's fun. (When's the last time he had fun like this? He can't remember.) More than once, Lucy dissolves into giggles, twirling in place or bopping her head. 

Distantly, he's aware of Jiya dragging Rufus up, pulling him into a dance. Wyatt is next, shrugging and pulling Agent Christopher to her feet. Mason pouts, just for a moment, before grabbing the nearest broom and joining in the fray. 

The bunker is still dark and dreary, his family is still gone, and Rittenhouse is still out there. But somehow, as the music plays on and they all twirl and laugh, the world seems a little bit brighter. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
